


But I'll Grind Against Your Bones

by Krasimer



Series: The Horror Of Our Love [4]
Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Background Relationships, Hurt Peter, M/M, Peter Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19734031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: They had turned to each other, an apology on his lips, when he met the eyes of the man whose shoulder had so briefly been in contact with his person. There was something horrifyingly familiar about him, about the darkness of his eyes and the way his lips quirked up.





	But I'll Grind Against Your Bones

The first time he thought he saw him, after everything that happened, he nearly stumbled into traffic.

That familiar face, those eyes that had always been so startling and terrifying, the shape of that jaw that had been so full of teeth. He had been wandering down the streets of his hometown, looking around at all the changes that had happened in the years since he had left. For a while, he had been looking, bored, into windows and shops, buying things as his whims dictated. When he had gotten done with that, no more little shops to see, he had pulled out his mobile and texted Charley.

And then…

Then he had knocked into someone’s shoulder, felt something sharp trace across his skin.

They had turned to each other, an apology on his lips, when he met the eyes of the man whose shoulder had so briefly been in contact with his person. There was something horrifyingly familiar about him, about the darkness of his eyes and the way his lips quirked up.

“Are you alright?” the man’s voice wasn’t British-accented – his accent was startlingly American. The way his eyes traced over Peter’s body for a second was agonizingly familiar and he felt a sensation like ice dripping down his spine. Peter tensed, watching the man watch him. There was a bright sunny day around them, no possible way for the man to be a vampire, no possible way for it to be _him_ –

“M’fine,” he swallowed his nerves, forcing the sound out.

“Are you sure?” the man still looked smug, amused in some way, like this was some fucking game to him.

“Absolutely.” Peter brushed his hand against his shoulder, as absentminded as he could ever be, as nonchalant as he could make the action look, then turned tail and _ran_. Around him, the skies filled with grey clouds, a storm rolling in from the shore, above the ocean. Like something had followed him, something with fangs and dark eyes and a nightmarish quality about him –

_But Jerry was supposed to be dead._

He’d seen the vampire die, he’d watched him turn to ash, then to smoke, disappearing into particles in the sunlight. Jerry had _died_ – Charley had made sure of it!

Peter had watched him go.

Once he had gotten several blocks away, he ducked into an alleyway and doubled over, clutching at his chest as he tried to regulate his breathing. “God…” he muttered, patting his pockets until he found his mobile. The time difference was too much for him to deal with right now, and he couldn’t bring himself to call Charley, but he could text him.

‘ _I think I just saw Jerry’_ he tapped out, hitting send with shaking fingers.

He let that sit there, for a moment, before he re-read it and shook his head. Charley would only worry, when he saw that. He tapped out another message quickly, sending it with hands that were shaking just as much as before. ‘ _I don’t think it was really him, but it looked like him. Just…Checking in.’_

If anything, that might have been worse.

The resurgence of a supernatural threat versus the teetering balance of his own sanity.

Neither was a good option – both of them indicated terrible things for the future. One of them was worse than the other, but on a personal level, Peter had to take them both as equally awful. On the one hand, if Jerry was coming back, then his entire world of feeling safe and sane was ruined.

On the other hand, if he was seeing the vampire where he _wasn’t_ , his entire world of feeling safe and sane was ruined.

There was no good option, for him.

Either way, he was insane.

Broken.

In danger and a danger to those around him.

He only realized he was clutching his mobile with a white-knuckled grip when his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, a tremor running through him with every moment. The text notification startled him a little, nearly causing the mobile to drop from his hands to the pavement when he jumped. Charley’s attention grabbed, he leaned heavily against the wall.

‘ _Do you need me to distract you or let you vent?’_ came the first text.

‘ _Either one works, but you need to talk about it, I’m here.’_

‘ _Amy says she’d be willing to talk, too._ ’

Peter almost laughed, at that. Somehow, he’d gained a little brother from what had happened. Charley’s mother wasn’t his biggest fan, but she appreciated that something terrifying and inordinately off-the-beaten-path had happened between them. When he had gifted them the flat in Vegas, she had warmed up to him a little more. He didn’t think there was anything in the world, however, that would make him think of her as a mother-figure.

But Charley was his little brother.

‘ _Tell Amy thanks,’_ he texted back. Barely a moment passed before Charley texted an emoticon back, an annoyed face with a frown and squinting eyes.

‘ _Rude.’_ Came a moment after that.

Feeling his heart rate finally slowing back to normal, Peter chuckled, shaking his head. ‘ _Anything you want me to bring you back from London? I can ship it to you or keep it with me until I come back to visit.’_

‘ _Visit soon. Bring back weird snacks?’_

‘ _I can do that._ ’

Peter laughed again, feeling something light and happy finally finding its way to the surface of his mind. The man he had run into was only a doppelganger at the worst possible moment, in the worst possible place to find him. A lookalike, nothing more, nothing less.

He tucked his mobile away after sending one last text to Charley telling him they’d talk again soon.

As he set off from the alleyway, his hands tucked into his pockets, Peter looked up at the storm clouds. They were still there, like something ominous just waiting to happen, but they didn’t seem like an omen anymore.

The skies ahead were clear, the roiling darkness of the storm behind him.

There were better days ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> Is anyone recognizing the lyrics I'm putting as the titles? Trust me, it'll be Very Important. 
> 
> Ain't trauma a bitch and a half?


End file.
